


(I got) Dreams

by FreckledSaint



Series: Personal Hans Week [6]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Family, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, My own lore, Period Typical Attitudes, Slightly anti-Anna but what would you expect from Hans’ own mother?, So also a little anti-Kristoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSaint/pseuds/FreckledSaint
Summary: That summer morning his mother woke him at the crack of dawn and asked if he wanted to go to the lake with her. Groggy and still sleepy, Hans was tempted to stay in bed and sleep until nine o’clock; but since he knew he had nothing better to day later, he accepted the offer.
Relationships: Hans & Queen of the Southern Isles
Series: Personal Hans Week [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838899
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	(I got) Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Although this only has trace amounts of the original prompt's idea, I hope you guys like it nonetheless!

That summer morning his mother woke him at the crack of dawn and asked if he wanted to go to the lake with her. Groggy and still sleepy, Hans was tempted to stay in bed and sleep until nine o’clock; but since he knew he had nothing better to do later, he accepted the offer.

They travelled on a chaise, up and down the rolling hills surrounding the city. The sky was a warm, blue color mottled with full cotton-like clouds. As the hour was early, the air was still cool - though he knew that the pleasant mildness would not last for long. July had been hot, and August was predicted to be hotter. Some courtiers believed that this may be the hottest month in five years.

Just thinking about it made him uncomfortable. Hans brushed a hand through his copper hair and glanced at his mother, who watched sheep graze in the distance. She had, in his opinion, been acting strange that morning. Mother liked to talk; advice or thoughtful insight were always up her sleeves and it was odd that she did not even comment on the weather, at the very least.

Her silence broke when they reached the lake. Once they walked a few meters away from the chaise and the valet, she wrapped her arm around his and hummed a nostalgic lullaby from his childhood. There was an awfully pleased expression on her face.

A little boat was tied to a tree by the shore. It was white with little pink and yellow flowers painted on the sides, and his mother murmured something about having his brother take a look at it soon. When he had asked her to elaborate, she flatly said that the paint was cracked and peeling and that she wanted it to look nicer.

Hans watched her keenly as he rowed their little boat. She stared back, and snorted at the drop of sweat on his brow. After bickering for a few minutes, she convinced him to take off his jacket and roll his sleeves up to his elbow. “We’re alone here,” she said saucily, “and I am your mother. It is not indecent for _me_ to see a little bit of your skin, goodness gracious.”

Grumbling, he rowed them towards the willows and the ash trees which surrounded the lake. The water closer to the banks was still, pale green, and cool to the touch. Its surface rippled with each strike of the oars, and Hans could see grass and pebbles shining at the bed.

Mother and son’s moods improved significantly in the shade. The latter was happy to be out of direct sunlight – he burned easily compared to others and didn’t want to return home all red – and the formed spun her parasol before closing it and setting it on her lap.

A happy smile blossomed on her face like a sunflower and she said, “I received a letter from Weselton this morning.”

Hans blinked and slowed his rowing to a halt. It was several moments before he said, “What does it say?”

“What does it _not_ say, my dear?” she chuckled and reached for her pocket to pull out a fairly short letter. It had been a few months since the incident and Hans had no idea what more Weselton had to say what he did not say back then. “I do not know your true opinion on Princess Anna,” said Mother with obvious pleasure, “but I think her dishonorable and foolish.”

“Dishonorable and foolish!” repeated Hans, incredulous. “Why is that, Mama?”

“Because dear Weselton tells me that Princess Anna accepted an offer of courtship from an orphan ice harvester! Now I would have normally given her the benefit of the doubt – some men, noble or common, do not take ‘no’ for an answer – but she publicly returns the affections! Her ancestors must be rolling in their graves,” she snickered. “That girl is not walking to her ruin, no, she is sprinting towards it.”

Hans took a sip of water and placed the bottle back into the basket. “His Serene Highness seems more preoccupied with the loss of a trading partner than with Princess Anna giving herself up to a coarse commoner.”

“Weselton will benefit in the long run,” she said matter-of-factly. “Knowing him and his progeny, they would have already made extensive plans to redirect all their efforts from Arendelle to actually profitable business partners: France, for instance, and Russia.” The letter was tucked back into her pocket, and she cupped his cheek with her gloved hand. “You dodged a bullet there, Hansel. I’ve seen portraits of Princess Anna and yes, she is a fair girl, but – kingdom or not – she would not have made a fitting match for a Westergaard.”

“Even for a lastborn Westergaard?”

“Even for a lastborn,” she said firmly. “We do not need a girl who holds herself in such low esteem that she believes an ice harvester is a better suitor than a prince. She is a princess yet behaves like the daughter of a boorish swineherd, desperate to leave the company of pigs by marrying any passing man.”

Hans closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. His mother’s behavior made sense now: she was masking her glee over the misfortune that was to befall his former fiancée. Contrary to what Anna and her household believed, his family did not bat an eye at his trying to seize the crown (his grandfather, in fact, praised him for the initiative) and were mostly concerned with his general wellbeing.

While his father was happy that he was safe and sound, his mother took their brusque treatment of him at the end as a personal slight; were it not for the collective efforts on the ministers’ behalf, she might have immediately joined Weseltonian schemes to cut Arendelle out of northern trade routes.

The sunrays filtering through the treetops dappled their skin golden. Mother laughed and her joy made him happy; disappointing her would have broken his heart. Taking his hands in her own, she stared at him with light-dazzled eyes and said, “You may never inherit a kingdom, but I promise you will not regret it. Marrying that girl would have done more harm than good, believe me.”

He started back, uncomfortable the bluntness of her manner. “I do not mean to be rude, Mother, but—”

“How would I know?” she finished with a smirk. “Of course, I would know. Why do you think I married your father?”

“Because you love him? Hopefully?” Hans rubbed the back of his neck. “Father says it was a love match. Was it not?”

“It was, yes. It absolutely was,” said Mother, twirling her parasol. “Your father was a very attentive, if sometimes awkward sort of lover.” The apple of her cheeks flushed a dusty pink and she glanced to the side. “Once, when we were in the country, he had galloped three miles to bring me a basket of cherries because I said how fond I was of them and there were none on the estate at which we were staying.” She smiled warmly. “I’ve been courted by many men, but none were as courteous and obliging as your father. He brought me cherries of his own volition, but could not ask me to dance without his mother and valet encouraging him in the background. I fancy I would’ve always loved him, even if I were given to another man.

“Which brings me back to my original point,” she opened her parasol as the boat rocked out of the willows and back into the sunlight, “my marriage to your father was, first and foremost, a political goal dreamt up by my parents on the day of my birth. More than anything, well, perhaps beside a son and heir which they later got, they wanted me to be queen.”

“Did _you_ want to be queen?”

Mother stared at him and said, “Yes. Queenship is such a magnificent office in the eyes of an ambitious little girl, you know. Saying that, when I was introduced at court, I found myself caring for Erik more despite him being a second son. My parents conceded to my affections, deciding that a princely son-in-law was still leaps and bounds better than a lordly one.

“When your uncle died, however, your farfar nearly married your father to Princess Marina of Hesse-Kassel.” The crow’s feet crinkled round her eyes and she propped the parasol against Hans’ shoulder. “Although we genuinely mourned the untimely death of your uncle, my parents championed day and night to ensure an engagement between your father and I was made official. Their tremendous efforts – i.e. my extremely generous dowry – helped me wed your father and fulfill girlhood dreams of queenship. I would have done the same for you if you were a maiden; but, since you are not, let us focus on other aspirations. Who said we cannot achieve our own little dreams together, hm? It won’t be a kingdom, but we shall achieve something.”

Hans rowed the oars a little too hard, and water splashed on him and his mother. He wiped the droplets off himself with the flat of his hand before giving the parasol back to her. “Excuse me,” he said softly.

“You are excused,” she said and smirked. “Really, I see no reason as to why Princess Anna refused you. Sure, you left her for dead and tried to slay her sister. So what? As far as I know – and, mind you, I’ve taken pains to learn a lot – no one else bothered to help. She seems to forget who froze her heart in the first place, the little fool.”

Anger laced her words, and Hans hurriedly pointed out a duck swimming a few paces away from them and remarked how wonderful it was that the kitchens received a new import of lemons yesterday. Continentals formed an insane idea that Queen Kristina of the Southern Isles was easy to please, which was far from the truth. She was quick to laugh, true, but her laughs were not necessarily benevolent. And to make matters worse his lovely, clever, good-humored, warm-hearted, well-meaning mama had been sharpening her claws since the Arendelle incident.

His trick with the ducks did not work. If anything, he worried that Mother might pull out a pistol and shoot them dead. So, Hans instead rowed them north and spoke as casually as he could about a most interesting document he had the pleasure of reading. “Ladies really ought to have a rational education as well as a domestic one, don’t you agree?

Listening to him babble must have soothed Mother as she stopped glaring at the innocent duck and said, “Wholeheartedly, my son. The Southern Isles need more schools for girls. Not just for ladies, but for poor women as well. Female education ensures the next generation does not turn out backwards because, frankly, mothers spend a lot more time with children than fathers.”

Hans snorted. “That’s certainly not the case with _my_ father.”

“Your papa is an outlier to the rule,” she smiled, “we will not include him.”

Mother listened to him carefully, nodding along here and there. She completely disapproved of the idea of female soldiers (not that Hans agreed with it himself; he only brought it up because he saw Arendelle has a few) and resolutely supported female medical education.

“Now that,” she said as he brought them back to shore, “is the thought process of a promising young man. Men do not belong in the birthing chamber and I loathe doctors who wish to abolish midwifery.” Hans helped her out of the little boat. “We ought to bring the idea up the next time the ministers come to bother your father.”

“Do you think the ministers will approve?”

“They won’t,” she confessed. “Not immediately, anyway. You know they disliked me a great deal when I ascended into queenship. Now the clever ones know if they want something from the King then they must please me first. And you have much better goals and dreams than those rats. You dream of a better Southern Isles; the former Minister of Agriculture dreamt of lining his pockets at the peasants’ expense.”

Hans laughed drily. “I like to think I’ve nobler dreams than most men, Mother. I just hope I can achieve them.”

She laughed alongside him, beckoning him to lean down a bit so she could kiss him. “Oh, I do not think there is a possibility of you not achieving whatever it is you dream of. You were so close to winning over Arendelle; that must count for something.”

“Right?” He plucked a dandelion growing on the side of the trail. “I try not to dwell on it, however, I think that were it not for that wretched heretical snowman then I should have certainly succeeded.”

Mother stopped in her tracks. “Excuse me, the heretical what?”

“Never mind,” said Hans, chuckling. “The more you dwell on it, the more your head will hurt. Come, come, let us go to the chaise! We will speak more on the ride home.”


End file.
